Sometimes I read the news.

Okay—I always read the news, but sometimes this “news” is…People magazine online.

Here’s my big secret spill, though: I tried to watch Downton Abbey.

However, I’d waited so long that I would’ve had to pay to view the episodes I missed (which is nearly the whole season, since we broke up). While I was considering giving Downton another chance, I’m not interested enough to pay. (I mean, I am still seeing Glee after all.)

I also wrote an elephant journal article titled Dear Husband, If You Do These Things, I’ll Make Your Dreams Come True, which is pretty much just one big secret spill. Yet it’s important to keep in mind that, as my husband puts it, I take artistic license with nearly all of my writing. (You never know exactly what is true.)

So I guess that’s another Monday morning dirty secret spill—that I liberally write with artistic license.

But there’s absolutely the reality that my writing comes from soul-deep nooks and crannies of secret spaces within my mind and heart and my emotional being, and I would love to say that I’m one of those writers who feels insecure and oh my God, I can’t believe I just hit “publish” on that last one, but the truth is I don’t.

And it’s not because I’m arrogant or because I don’t have boundaries. Rather, it’s because I believe in who I am.

In those soul-deep nooks and crannies where light is rarely allowed in, I see myself—I let light in as I witness myself—and I’m okay with what I find.

Are you?

And not are you okay with who I am, because I don’t care—which is exactly my point.

It’s when we become okay with who we are and with what we’re putting out into this world of ours, that we no longer need to seek approval.

Are rave reviews nice? Sure, of course. Are they necessary? No—and if they are, then we’re not living from soul-deep, possibly secret compartments, but from our ego-driven cravings for pats on the back.

And that’s why I have my Monday morning secret spill.

It started out purely as something fun for my friends on Facebook and it’s evolved into something that my readers love to see, and I think I know the reason why.

It’s because we connect with these little nuances.

It’s when we discuss these minute aspects of being human, we’re able to connect on a fundamentally profound level that allows us to open up and expose other more important parts of who we are—in short, it’s the start of communication, which makes the world go ’round.

Also, sometimes it’s good to just tilt your head back, show your teeth and laugh a little—or a lot.

(Oh, and if this sounds familiar, it’s because you read that blog I linked in earlier, so thanks.)

Photo credits: Yes, I seriously posed these dolls.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

They tend to be some of my most shared and viewed blogs. (Hint, hint, leave a comment in the section below if you have some insight to offer. Oh, and—shameless self-promotion—sign up for my new, free email subscription while you’re at it.)

So, on that note (of fun and fun to share, not shameless self-promotion), here goes:

I watched James Bond in bed with my two most favorite people in the whole wide world on two separate occasions yesterday (morning and evening). As it turns out, my little girl prefers Roger Moore (I knew she has amazing taste) and the older Bond flicks in general.

(Here’s a little gem for you, at about 48 seconds in.)

And here’s a picture I took last night. (Please note the three lumps of feet, with one considerably shorter.)

I got the comment of a lifetime underneath my last chapter share of The Caged Girls. Sometimes I don’t think readers even slightly realize how this type of feedback impacts a writer.

I’m not an insecure writer—I know my value and you won’t find me doubting whether or not something I wrote is good (because I know it is). I’m not arrogant—rather, I feel my passion and I believe in myself, and I don’t apologize for either quality. At the same time, it takes a lot of practice to learn to brush off negative responses, especially to something that’s highly personal in nature (and there will still be times when all of the experience in the world doesn’t lessen a brutal blow).

However, the inverse is more than equally true—for every small-minded harshness that’s thrown haphazardly out into the world, a small seed of love can grow and spread into a blossom of infinite inspiration and occasionally needed motivation to keep doing what we’re doing (which is sharing and baring our souls through words with you).

I am still watching Glee, but I haven’t seen too much of it this week. I did finally see Wreck-It Ralph, though, and as someone who could totally leave video games in the 80’s, this movie is fantabulous. (And, yes, totally was totally used on purpose.)

Also, in writing this, I just Googled Wreck-It Ralph to make sure I spelled it correctly and I came across Wreck-It Ralph 2 information, which completely made my day.

I’ll be finishing this up fairly quickly because I have a not-feeling-so-hot tiny lady in the other room and I can hear her giving her daddy a hard time. In other words, I’m a mother before I’m a writer, although I can’t and won’t stop being both.

So, for now, signing out.

Actually, I’m back. Because I had to quickly close up shop and then return to edit and publish, thanks to a temper tantrum.

Which reminds me of this perfectly spot-on Johnny Depp quote:

“When kids hit 1 year old, it’s like hanging out with a miniature drunk. You have to hold onto them. They bump into things. They laugh and cry. They urinate. They vomit.”― Johnny Depp

While my daughter is beyond this stage, the frequency of emotional swings and mood changes from day to day are still unbelievable. That said, I’m one of the moodiest women in the world, so I don’t think it’s fair when we expect our children to be different or “better” than we are.

Also, I’d like to officially note that I didn’t set out this morning to break the blogging record for number of parenthesis used within a single article, but, what can I say, I can’t help being a winner.

Okay, now I’m over and out.

Happy Monday. Here’s to wishing you some dirty secrets to spill (and a few to keep for yourself too).

Photo credits: Author’s own; imgur; See-ming Lee/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I began watching Sex and the City prequel The Carrie Diaries on Netflix during my sinus surgery—and I haven’t stopped. My husband put plex on our TV so I can watch new episodes (I don’t own cable and my television is. not. flat.)

I waited up until 10 pm for Downton Abbey…only to discover that it’s on at 9. (Yes, that’s waiting up for me. Hubby went to bed mad at me because I was “overly angry” about missing the show.)

After many years of enjoyment, I won’t be renewing my Yoga Journal subscription.

I’m an Elephant Journal member, and I’m still excited that they upped the reads from two to three per day, for non-members.

I’m drinking coffee out of Santa’s head…and I don’t give a damn.

I will never be able to spell occasionally correctly. Yep, I just had that fixed thanks to my handy, dandy computer.

It might be a lot too late, but I finally bought the Into the Wild soundtrack and I can’t stop listening to it. (And I think Chris McCandless was an idiot who went into the wild.)

My daughter’s favorite show is Mr. Rogers spin off Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood—and maybe only parents want to talk about their kids learning Spanish from Dora or weird, drug-induced monster creations, but this show is better than any other kids program I’ve ever seen, with the exception of the aforementioned Mr. Rogers.

Okay, I think that’s enough for now…but only because I can’t remember the one that made me start writing this in the first place.

P.S. Oh, and I’ll add that I joined Instagram—and I only have 8 followers. Yep, so there’s that.

P.P.S. I created the category “Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill,” so I guess look for another edition of this next Monday!

P.P.P.S. I haven’t written post scripts in such a childish manner since, well, I was a child (passing notes in, probably, the fourth grade)—and I’m digging it.

Photo: Rennett Stowe/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.